


Getting Your Rachmaninoff

by froofie



Category: BBC Sherlock, Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Chopin - Freeform, F/M, Garters, James Rhodes - Freeform, Submissive, Suit Sex, multiple locations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 19:20:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froofie/pseuds/froofie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benedict invites you to a swanky event and unexpectedly takes something of yours on stage with him. He gets his "revenge" later on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Your Rachmaninoff

**Author's Note:**

> For Tor
> 
> Thanks to qhuaylover
> 
> Chopin poem by Emma Lazarus (You can google it if you want to read the whole thing)

It was the perfect night for celebrating music and poetry. Benedict had invited you to come to the Pianos and Poems gala at the legendary Victoria Opera House where he was performing with his friend James Rhodes. James had prepared to play all of Chopin’s Nocturnes and asked if Benedict would recite this beautiful poem about Chopin in between the pieces. Being the kind of man who likes to have his fingers in all kinds of pies, he said yes (plus, he loves James and so do you). So, that is how you find yourself sitting alone in a very private box at the opposite end of the theater from the stage, waiting patiently for the program to begin.  
You feel very much like a Queen. You dressed well for the occasion, going as far as (giddily) buying all new clothes from head to toe: a black lace halter top that ties in a big bow at the back of your neck, a dark grey double layer chiffon mini skirt, matching red satin strapless bra and panties, a white garter and stockings with the seam up the back and lovely high heeled maroon wing-tipped Bottega Veneta Mary Janes. You could not feel or look sexier.

While thumbing through the playbill you hear a familiar deep and happy voice behind you.

“Ah, there you are. Hello, darling!” he says cheerfully as you stand up to turn and face him. “I thought you might like a drink before the -” he stops as he sees you, almost spilling the two glasses of red wine in his hands, unable, for once, to speak.

He stammers instead, “I - I ….wow. You are beautiful my dear! Breathtaking.”

He’s suddenly turned bashful on you, but you hardly notice because you’re too busy looking at him. He’s dressed in a gorgeously tailored black plaid three piece suit, white shirt and muted silver tie. You love him in swanky suits, but this time there’s something about him that’s even more appealing. You quickly deduce that it’s the hair. Normally for these posh events his stylists have his hair combed back and lacquered down to an inch of its life. It makes him look older. But tonight his hair is running wild. Not untamed or unkempt, just wavy, silky, sexy, as if all his charm and sexuality have sprung out on top of his head in a glorious display. His fringe is down over his brow which, because it still has some of the black dye in it from Sherlock, accentuates his blue eyes and creamy skin even more. He has no idea how powerfully angelic he looks, he NEVER has any idea. It is the one thing that turns you on immediately.

“Thank you,” you beam, “You look amazing, too.”

You stare at each other, sweeping your eyes over the other’s body for a moment more before you snap back to reality.

“I thought you might like a drink.” He hands you a glass. “The first part with James and I will be about forty-five minutes long and then there will be an intermission. I can join you after the interval to watch the second part with you. I would love to take you to dinner after if you like.” He clinks his drink against yours and leans in to kiss both your cheeks. “Cheers.”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” You take a sip of the wine, looking at him from over the edge of your glass. You catch his eye as he is doing the same. You feel shy, yet your attraction towards him dominates everything else. You have a feeling he is undressing you in his mind, but he’s too much of a gentleman to be obvious about it. You appreciate that about him and decide he should be rewarded. You excuse yourself for a moment, turning your head as you leave the box to see him watching you walk away. You saunter over to the restroom just across the hall, making sure to sway your hips just a bit.

In the stall, you remove your panties and palm them in your hand. You return to the box where he is standing, now looking out into the audience. He radiates charm out his back. You feel drawn in to him, so in love, so happy that this beautiful creature is yours. You know he is the most attractive man in the building. You give him a hug from behind, inhaling his cedary cologne. You slide a hand in each side pocket of his trousers and run your hands on his thighs with a little affection, reveling in the knowledge that no one else gets to do this to him but you. You secretly leave your panties in his right pocket. The lights flash in the theater, indicating 15 minutes.

“That’s my cue. Must join James backstage. Enjoy the program!” His energy has become nervous and you find it adorable that this man, who portrays the most confident characters for a living, still gets scared to perform in front of people. He kisses you quickly goodbye on your cheek and sprints away.

“You’ll be great, love,” you say after him. “I’ll be with you in more ways than one.” He looks at you quizzically but can’t ask questions as he runs out the back of the box and into the hallway. You laugh in your affection for him.

oOoOoOo

Standing on stage, stage left of the piano, waiting for James to finish his mini-lecture on Chopin, Benedict is fidgety. That’s nothing new, he can never truly be still, his temperament always demands movement of some kind. He runs his right hand over the side of his trousers, perhaps to wipe them of sweat and you notice that he’s looked down for a moment in curiosity. You smile knowingly, figuring he’d look up at you having found your panties in his pocket earlier. But then you realize he is just now finding your present, right there on stage, in front of one thousand, one hundred people. You see him put his hand in his pocket, feel around and start to pull out the secret, only realizing what it is as James calls his name.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, my friend Mr. Benedict Cumberbatch!” The audience applauds.

Benedict, flustered and blushing, but smiling to himself, shoves your panties quickly into his pocket, walks to the microphone and, after a moment of not being able to find his tongue, his thoughts having drifted away from the job at hand to something else, composes himself and begins the first stanza of the poem.

“A dream of interlinking hands, of feet  
Tireless to spin the unseen, fairy woof  
Of the entangling waltz. Bright eyebeams meet,  
Gay laughter echoes from the vaulted roof.  
Warm perfumes rise; the soft unflickering glow  
Of branching lights sets off the changeful charms  
Of glancing gems, rich stuffs, the dazzling snow  
Of necks unkerchieft, and bare, clinging arms.  
Hark to the music! How beneath the strain  
Of reckless revelry, vibrates and sobs  
One fundamental chord of constant pain,  
The pulse-beat of the poet's heart that throbs.  
So yearns, though all the dancing waves rejoice,  
The troubled sea's disconsolate, deep voice.”

 

Benedict finishes and takes a seat next to the piano as James begins the first Nocturne piece. It takes a moment, but you see him slowly start to gaze up at you. You’ve heard the expression, ‘If looks could kill,’ but what he is telling you with his eyes is something entirely different. Suddenly, there is no one else in the room but the two of you. You look at him innocently, mockingly. There is nothing he can do but look.

The first piano piece finishes and Benedict rises to read the next stanza. 

While he reads from the page, you see his right hand splayed out over his right pocket, communicating to the audience nothing but the poem, but showing you what he’s really thinking about. You feel giddy that your secret is so hidden, yet so out in the open.

The first act continues. James plays another piece and Benedict reads the 3rd and 4th stanzas of the poem in between the movements. Each time he recites, he does something different: he puts his hand in the pocket and makes a fist (holding your panties in his hand), he thumbs the outside of his pocket and once he even puts his hand on his own right butt cheek (but then he does that all the time and never notices he’s doing it). After every stanza, he sits and returns his eyes to you. The heat coming from him melts you. You bite your lip and keep eye contact. The music is serene and James plays with such quiet emotion. You are lulled into a dreamlike calmness.

During intermission, you meander around the building, almost getting lost in the lush, ornate, labyrinth-like hallways. You like not only having shared a secretly-public (or publicly secret?) moment with Benedict, but you also like walking around noticing how sexy and naughty it feels to have on a garter belt and stockings but no panties. You feel like a real woman, a mysterious grown up woman. All your focus is on your sex, which is glistening from the arousal of knowing Benedict had your panties on stage with him.

The second part of the show begins; another pianist and reader have taken the stage. Benedict has not returned to your box just yet. You assume he got caught up saying his goodbyes to James and will show up soon. A few minutes pass by and you hear some rustling noises behind you. You wait for Benedict to sit down next to you, but that doesn’t happen. After a beat, you slowly turn around to your left and see him. You are forced to suck in a breath. He’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the wall with his left shoulder. He’s staring dead at you, the look in his eyes and his face, indeed his whole aura is undeniably sexy and then you notice that, crooked in the pointer finger of his right hand, he is casually dangling your red panties by his thigh. He cocks an eyebrow to say, “Hello.”

You want to do nothing for the rest of your life but look at him standing there like this. You almost come just from the sight. Your breathing pattern certainly changes. You don’t do or say anything, you just watch him, wondering what he’s going to do.

He pushes himself off the wall and walks the few steps to the seat next to you.

“Excuse me, miss, “ he whispers, “I think you may have lost something. Would you mind coming with me?” He holds his hand out and you take it, your curiosity and your arousal growing. He leads you silently through the empty narrow hallways which are dark except for a few antique gold wall sconces illuminating the heavy blue velvet curtains of each box entryway, Your skirt flutters at your knees as you sneak around, your footsteps muted on the plush red carpet. You’re almost dizzy with anticipation. He turns a corner here, another corner there. You are thoroughly lost in the confusing passageways but you don’t care.

He finds a secluded spot and he pins you up against a wall. You stand there, again wondering and excited by what he’s going to do next. But he doesn’t do anything. He simply stands there, hands against the wall on either side of you and staring into your eyes. Your gaze moves from his eyes to his lips, thinking he’s going to kiss you, but he doesn’t. He just stares at you. You notice his breathing pattern has changed, his energy has become something else and then you realize he’s fucking you with his eyes. His penetrating gaze shoots energy down into your toes. You swallow hard and let out a whimper. 

Eventually he lets up a little. He sucks in a breath.

“Yes, ma’am, I found these red. silky. panties. in the building and thought they might belong to you. Do you mind if I check?”

You shake your head.

He looks around to make sure you’re still alone and, while still maintaining eye contact, he stoops like Prince Charming fitting the lost glass slipper on Cinderella and begins at your ankle to lightly run the tips of his fingers up the back of your left leg. You feel him bear down on the seam when he realizes it’s there. When he gets to the top of your stocking and feels the start of the garter strap holding it up, you see him lose focus a little bit, trying to maintain composure as his brain conjures up an image of what his fingers are telling him is happening under your skirt. You almost see his eyes start to roll back in his head. But he regains himself and continues his journey, his warm hands now at the top of your inner thigh. You feel him touch your wetness and you let out a shuddering breath.

He stands back up, still looking into your eyes. He raises his right hand up to look at his glistening fingers. He rubs them together on his thumb. Wet. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the panties.

“Yes, I believe these DO belong to you.” He leans his body against yours a little and moves his face in close. His right hand presses your panties into your hand and you take them as if hypnotized. You want to kiss him badly but you really like him being in the lead. It’s so sexy. He teases you with his slightly open lips, hovering over yours, moving his head a little from side to side as if he is kissing you without touching. His breath feels warm, his body hot. He moves his mouth to your right ear.

“I think you need to pay for what you did tonight, my love,” he whispers, playfully. “I think you’re going to have to go to bed without dinner.” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face. You nod your head and open your mouth a little trying to give him the hint to kiss you, but he doesn’t. He only smiles, wickedly.

You realize he is going to drag this out until you’ve completely come undone.

But there is one tell, one little tidbit of information that makes you grin right back at him. You saw it when he crouched down in front of you and you feel it now pressing against your hip.

He is coming undone right now.

He takes your hand and leads you out of the venue, easily flagging down a taxi. You scoot in first and he follows, sitting right next to you, his left thigh touching your right. He gives the driver the address. You both sit quietly, politely in the darkened vehicle, the lights of the city sliding across your faces. The car drives over a massive bump and you crash into each other a bit, his left hand "accidentally" reaches down to touch your upper thigh. You stare into the cabbie’s rearview mirror to see if he’s watching, but he’s not.

Benedict gets cheeky, asking you, “Is that your boss?” and points out the window to your left. You turn your head to look, and he turns his whole body to face you, as if to see out the back of the cab window. When he shifts, he deftly moves his right hand under your skirt and it travels up to the top of your stocking and lingers there, sliding underneath. He’s feeling your creamy thigh in secret, both of you playing as if nothing is happening, looking out the window, but you feel him, speaking to you through touch. His finger sneaks over to your lips, he lifts your right leg and places it on top of his left, opening you up just a little more, still pretending for the cabbie that nothing is going on. He lets his whole hand wander around between your legs, distributing wetness and generally just making you squirm. You try to keep your breathing normal, but you occasionally have to suck in a breath. You snake your right hand behind you to his groin and squeeze on his hardness. He loses himself for a minute, tilting his head back on the headrest, stifling a moan in his gorgeously long throat.

oOoOoOo

Once inside his front door he lets his keys fall to the floor, pins you to the wall again and moans against you, as if he's been holding his breath for hours, running his hands all over your waist and ass, lifting up your skirt in the back to feel your naked bottom. He lifts your right leg up to wrap around his waist and presses into you, kissing and breathing hot breath on your neck and running his hand up and down your thigh.

“You are so sexy tonight,” he pants in your ear, your neck, delaying gratification. You smile against his head.

“Takes one to know one,” you purr. He breathes a throaty smile.

“Please kiss me, Benedict."

He leads you over to the living room. His spacious flat is dark save for the lights from the street coming in through the stained glass windows, which create a reddish-brown hue to everything.

He sits on the couch and places you on top of his lap, facing him, his hands on your waist. Your legs straddle his thighs on either side and you’re very much aware that you aren’t wearing panties. The garter belt straps strain a bit which creates a new and different kind of tense feeling between your legs.

“Did you like my present?” you tease, seductively, beginning to undo his tie a bit, unbuttoning his jacket and waistcoat.

“Yes. I did. It was very...generous of you.”

“Do you have anything for me?” you ask innocently.

“I believe I do,” he coos, licking his lips. “Come here.”

You lean in, placing your hands at the nape of his neck and bring your face to his. He opens his mouth willingly against yours. You're drawn into his kiss instantly. Lips, smooth, full and wet are on yours, his tongue inviting itself into your mouth tentatively at first. There’s no need to rush anything and yet drawing it out any more almost seems tortuous to you both. He sits up and wraps his strong arms around you. He lets out a moan in your mouth as you grab a handful of his hair and run your fingers through it. His massive hands and fingers hold your face steady as the brings you in deeper into his mouth. You love feeling his tongue on yours, telling you things his heart can’t say, things he wants, things to come. You respond with a, “Yes,” emanating from your entire being.

You kiss like this for what feels like ages, until you're both drunk on each other and your mouths are numb. You open your eyes to find him watching you while you kiss, his almond eyes so close, his face almost a grainy blur in the filtered darkness. A hand trails up your back and you feel the bow of your blouse being tugged. When it comes loose, the fabric shimmies away from your breasts and pools at your waist. He sees your silky strapless bra, you see he understands completely that you dressed like this for him. It occurs to you, based on the look of utter appreciation and joy on his face, that this is the first time a woman has put on sexy lingerie of this sort for him. He looks like a boy in a toy store after he’s gotten his allowance; he has no idea what to do or get first.

He picks you up slightly, lays you on the couch and drapes himself on top of you in between your legs, kissing your neck. Your hands splay out in his hair, letting him do whatever he wants to you. His kisses slowly trail down to your chin, your collar bone, down your cleavage. He places kisses on the top of each breast mound, speaking his love for them with his lips. He takes one clothed breast in his mouth and bites a little, making the fabric wet with his saliva and your nipple shows through, taut. He rubs his closed lips over the tight red pearl. He kisses it delicately. You swivel your hips against him in reply, moaning. He repeats the same on your other breast. The skin of your chest and neck is flushed and throbbing. You hook your left leg around his back and press your pelvis into him, arching up. He licks between your breasts, placing his right palm on your back. You moan again. This man. This man is doing these things to you and you are so happy about that.

“You are so good at this,” you sigh, forearm over your eyes, trying to soak in as much pleasure as possible. You look down for a second. He smiles up at you, his whole face changes. He crawls up your body and kisses you, fully.

“Come with me,” he murmurs. He offers his hand and you both stand up. He helps you take your blouse off.

You languidly move in the darkness through the living room, the kitchen and into his bedroom, holding hands, excited for what’s about to come.

You sit on the edge of his bed, again in semi-red-light stained darkness, and motion for him to stand in front of you.

“I think there are one too many fully-dressed gentlemen in here.” You slide his jacket off of him and place it gently on the chair next to the bed. He stands there, vulnerable, awaiting your next move. You run your hands over his vested chest and begin to undo the rest of the buttons, slowly, occasionally flicking your eyes up to catch his. You remove his vest and put it with his jacket. You walk behind him, admiring his full rear end filling out the fitted pants. You run your hand over it, savoring the feeling of your light touch on his hard ass. You walk around to face him. You reach up, running your fingers through the back of his hair and down to his neck where you pop the collar on his shirt and undo his tie completely. You toss the tie to the chair. You take his large right hand and place it on your chest while you undo his cuff buttons. You repeat on the other sleeve. You start undoing the buttons of his shirt. He watches you. You open all the buttons and untuck his shirt from his trousers. You open his shirt and stand back to look at him: collar popped, cuffs open, shirt disheveled, hair a sexy mess, bare chest making an appearance, erection straining against the expensive fabric of his slacks. Your mouth starts to water. You slide your hands around his waist, under his shirt and onto his back. You kiss the exposed skin on his chest. You lay him down diagonally on the bed, not ready for the suit to be completely off, though he does kick his shoes to the floor as he reclines.

You straddle him, still in your skirt and bra, stockings and heels. You lean down and kiss him. He opens up to you immediately, lifting his head, wanting you. His hands rest on your ass and then sneak under your skirt to your thighs. You can tell he loves touching you there while you’re wearing garters. You place your hands on either side of his face and lean over to his right ear, licking inside it. He let’s out a moan. You whisper his name in his ear.

“Benedict.”

“Mmmm,” He snaps one of the garters against your ass and thigh.

“I have another present for you, if you want it,” you whisper in his ear.

“Is it this?” he asks, eyes closed, moving his fingers over your labia, fingering you a little. You cock your head back, arching into his touch and suck in a breath.

“That’s for later. I was thinking of this...” You snake down his body, smoothing his chest with your hands, under the fabric of his shirt, raining wet kisses down the line between his breastbone and his stomach. You sit up, kneeling between his lower thighs. He watches you unbuckle his belt, biting your lip. You unbutton and unzip his trousers, marveling at how sexy a man’s hard-on looks pressed up against fabric. You run your hand over it and a noise escapes his throat. The material is mildly damp. You love knowing you made him wet like that. You move off to the side so he can lift his hips and slide his trousers and pants just past his hips. He starts to take them off completely, but you stop him, indicating you want him like this, semi-naked in a suit, a little longer.

You bury your face in the middle of his pubic bone, just above the base of his cock, pushing in, breathing in, exhaling hot breath on his warm skin. You can feel the rise and fall of his stomach under your face. You leave a quick kiss-bite. He tastes salty, smells musky and you lick up more of him.

“Oh, God.” His breath hastens. He shifts his hips a bit. The head of his penis touches the side of your mouth, so smooth. You spy a bit of pre-come seep out and you swirl your fingers through it, spreading the slickness around the head and a little down on his shaft. Your mouth is aching to suck on him. You take his head into your warm mouth with moderate suction, devouring him all the way down to the base. He moans loudly as you repeat this over and over. You are hungry for him and your actions follow suit. Your tongue presses hard against his shaft as you lick, open-mouthed, all the way to the top. It swirls around his slit before you suck him back into your warm mouth completely.

“Your tongue...uhnnn,” he hisses to himself. He is hard and soaked with your saliva. The final time you go down, you hold his testicles in your left hand and press a little on his perineum. His head lifts off the pillow, mouth and eyes wide open, very much on the edge. You feel his balls tense a bit and you ease off. 

You move down and pull his trousers and socks off. You return to his side and kiss him, holding his erection in your left hand. For every stroke down, you sweep your tongue past his lips, calming him down. You sit up and straddle him, looking into his face.

You take the time to really appreciate the beauty of this man who loves you. You tenderly trace your fingertips over every shadow, every line of his face. You trail your hands through his fringe and he cocks his head back, eyes closed, mouth open in ecstasy. His silken curls hook around your fingers. You meditate in his eyes, swimming deeply and easily in the icy blue waters. You feel the power that comes from him simply looking at you, knocking the breath from your body. You love watching him respond to your touch. Most men just want you to focus on their groin, but Benedict loves to be touched all over. He is eager for it. You feel his fragile collar bones under your thumb. He runs his hands up your hips, your waist, your shoulders, your hair. He pulls you down for a kiss, tasting himself. He moans into your mouth as you lay your whole body on top of his, your hands pressed against the brown leather headboard. You bloom under the feeling of his hot skin against yours. He holds on to your bottom, bends his knees, and thrusts against you a little, his shaft sliding against your lips. You feel him search for the zipper of your skirt and he unzips you. You rise up a bit, and shift out of the garment. 

Returning to him, he sits up, wraps his arms around your waist and lays you onto your back. He pins himself to you and places his hands at your hairline, smoothing out your hair, admiring you, adoring you. You hold him at his waist, wrapping your stockinged legs around his calves. He kisses you lightly and pushes himself up to sit between your legs. He takes one of your feet and slowly unbuckles your shoe, tossing it on the floor with a thunk. He repeats on the other foot. He runs his right hand up the inside of your leg to your groin, around the garter at your waist, spreading his fingers wide over it and back again, pausing to run his fingers under the garter strap. He lifts your foot and kisses the top of it. 

"Do you mind keeping this on? You look so sexy. I want to continue looking at you like this."

You nod your head, luxuriating in his electric touch, at his words, knowing how you’re affecting him.

“Only if you’ll keep the shirt on.” He smiles and kisses you to say, “Yes”.

He places slow kisses down your body, paying particular attention to your stomach, where he alternates love bites and kisses: soothing you and teasing you. You wiggle under his command. He spreads your legs, knees bent up by his shoulders. He kisses your inner right thigh. You love to see his lips on your body. He kisses your vulva, paying so much attention to it, you can’t help but appreciate how he understands your body and the need for a measured build up. He is slow and attentive and so very giving. You roll your eyes at yourself for thinking how he makes you feel like a flower, but damn it if it isn’t true. There is something about the way he treats you that is so naturally masculine, you can't help but respond fully as a woman. You feel an energy center open in your solar plexus, filling you with confidence and power and you feel like a God.

His nose unintentionally presses up against your clitoris, moving back and forth over it as he laps at your lips. The sensation from both makes you start rocking your hips against his face, begging for more. You hold a hand on his head and feel it moving as he pushes his tongue in deeper and faster. Wetness flows out of you. He moves his head to suck gently on your clitoris before lifting his face to look at you. It’s shiny.

He crawls his way back up your body and kisses you, rubbing his wet face around on yours, laughing. You chuckle and reach up to slide his shirt off. You wipe his face with the shirt and toss it on the bedroom floor. He leans down, holding his body up to hover over yours and kisses you, lapping at your open mouth. You reach down and wrap your hand around his manhood and start stroking methodically while receiving his kisses. He rocks his hips around your hand. You move his penis closer to your opening. He takes over and slowly inserts himself into you, easily gliding in. Your warm wetness envelops him and he shudders against your mouth. He lay inside you, enjoying the sensation of your connection. You feel complete, somehow, as if his entire being is in you, loving you. You lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, your hands on either side of his head, bringing him in even deeper, even closer.

He kisses your lips while he thrusts into you. Tenderness seeps out of his body. There are no words, no other sounds but breathing. Your breath comes out steady through your open mouth, shuddering at the end of each exhale. He takes your hands by the pillow and your fingers intertwine. You look to his eyes and find nothing but pure emotion. You get the sense that he isn’t here to get off, he’s here to express his love for you, all of his concentration going towards showing you what he’s feeling. Your heart pounds.

Every time his pubis hits yours, ripples of sensation swell from your clitoris. You start to rock against him harder panting now at the start of the aching spasm inside you. You feel the tightness of the garter straps straining against your legs, feel him full and deep, swelling a little more, giving everything to you, your fingers digging into his sweaty muscular back. You think about how fucking sexy he looked on the couch, submissive in a disheveled suit, in contrast to how controlled and professional he was on stage earlier. The contrast is so erotic to think about. He holds onto the back of your left thigh, running his hand from stocking to flesh and up to your ass, paying attention to your signals. You arch your back against him, mouth wide open, eyes slammed shut. Your muscles contract around him, pulsing and sending waves of pleasure all over your body, erasing everything from your mind. You open your eyes in the midst of it to find him watching your face, astounded at...what? You aren’t sure.

He wipes away the hair from your brow, letting you come down a bit. He slides out of you for a moment, his member dripping wet and turns you to lay on your side, spooning you. He unclasps your bra and removes it. He wraps his free arm around you from behind, kissing your shoulder, your neck. He is hard against your rear end and you feel him move his penis to rub between your legs. The slick sensation is luxurious. You lay there, letting him pet you, one hand smoothing up and down your belly, fondling your bare breasts, splaying his hand out between them. He smells your hair. He picks up your top leg, opening you up, holding your leg back a little against his. He glides himself back into you and slowly you feel him moving back and forth, pressing deeper and deeper. His hand presses against your belly as he rocks inside you. It’s quite a comforting, yet very sexy position for you both. You feel his hot breath on your neck. You enjoy feeling him get off this way, letting him do everything he wants. His thrusting alternates from deep and holding, to long and drawn out. He seems to enjoy the latter the most, his hips not moving simply back and forth but undulating, grinding from his whole spine like he’s dancing. He starts grunting, his forehead planted on your shoulder, concentrating on his own rising pleasure. You reach back and hold on to his hair as you squeeze your pelvic muscles around him. He lets out a deep, “Oh!” His movements become more insistent, pressing his hand on your belly, grasping at your flesh. He stops moving suddenly, panting down your back, an occasional stifled moan sound escaping his lips. You feel him throbbing within your walls, ejecting hot wetness.

He releases out of you and holds you close, kissing any skin near his lips, nuzzling your ear. You turn around to face him, pressing your bodies together, wrapping your leg around him. You close your eyes, feeling warm and protected.

 

oOoOoOo

You lay on your stomach, running your fingers through the tuft of hair on his chest, mellowed and vibrating.

“That thing that you did back there, with the panties. That - that was.... nice,” he says, still happily stunned by the whole thing.

He pauses.

“You are exquisitely beautiful when you come.” He turns his head to face you, placing his hand over yours, lifting your hand to kiss the inside of your wrist. You smile and thank him.

He sits up and shifts down so his head is laying on your lower back. He rubs your naked bottom, gorgeously framed by the garter.

“You have no idea how sexy you look right now.” You try to look at him over your shoulder. He kisses your hip.

He runs his long fingers under the garter belt, slowly unhooks the stockings from the back straps, turns you over and unclasps the front straps. He peels the hose off your legs, taking his time to run his hand up your now bare skin. He helps you shimmy out of the garter.

“These are very sexy. Please wear them again sometime.” He tosses everything on top of his rumpled suit.

"You just keep checking your pockets," you absently joke.

He laughs deep in his chest, crawls up your body between your legs, smooths his fingers through your hair and rests on top of you, all eye crinkles, dimples, open boyish face and love.

He buries his face in between your breasts and lingers in repose. Occasionally you feel a wet tongue sneak down to tickle your décolletage and you giggle, making him giggle back. Your fingers play in his hair for a while. You could stay like this forever.

He picks his head up and looks at you, his energy coming back.

“I think you’ve learned your lesson, miss. How about some dinner?”

OoOoOoOoOo

You wake up in the middle of the night to use the loo, taking a moment to sleepily watch his angelic face in the golden light of the room, his long eyelashes fluttering as he dreams. You marvel at how he can be all four seasons in a day: confident and sexy, playful and loving, pensive and quiet, sweet and insecure. You love it all.

On your way back to bed, you decide you're cold and rummage around in his closet for a t-shirt (a grey one with a sketch of a bridge on it or something) and shorts to wear. While changing you glance over at the bedside chair, his suit and your clothes mingling together, telling tales of a night well-spent, you get an idea. You take one stocking and the garter belt and return to his closet. You hide the stocking in the back pocket his favorite pair of jeans and you put the garter in the inside jacket pocket of his most-worn blazer.

You jokingly think to yourself how “generous” a girlfriend you are, giving him these little presents. And you laugh to yourself as you climb into bed, kissing the middle of his rising and falling chest.

You won’t miss these items anyway. You can always buy more.


End file.
